


The Exhibition

by StarberryCupcake



Series: Loved, in spite of one's self [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, M/M, emotional development and getting to understand one another and themselves, i don't know how much more precise i can be tbh, i needed a happy fic, oblivious idiots, pining!jolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarberryCupcake/pseuds/StarberryCupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire accepts to hold an exhibition featuring his work and he chooses the Amis as his inspiration but, when everyone gets an opportunity to sit for Grantaire except for Enjolras, who never gets asked, he starts pining. Even if he is not explicitly invited, Enjolras goes to the gallery and finds out more about Grantaire than he expected to find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uninvited

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my silly characterization, unsurprising setting and will to play with Victor Hugo's amazing characters.

 

To say that matters of the heart weren’t exactly Enjolras’s forte was a severe understatement. It was not as if he was completely oblivious to his friends’ affairs or that he was unable to understand what those things meant. It was just that love was one of those things that you could only understand, or try to comprehend, when they happened to you. And this was the first time that Enjolras had ever been in love.

He could not pinpoint the moment in which he fell in love with Grantaire. He suspected it had been a gradual process. They had known each other for years, when Enjolras, along with his lifelong friends Combeferre and Courfeyrac had formed their group. They had a rocky relationship, to say the least, frequently arguing in meetings, debating in cafés, with Grantaire trying to get a rise out of Enjolras but, with time, the leader of Les Amis began to find that Grantaire’s cynic point of view had valid points, that, as he tried to prove him wrong, he made his ideas stronger, that the other student challenged Enjolras’s ideas but, while doing so, he proved that he could be brilliant, fluent and knowledgeable. Enjolras started to feel that Grantaire and himself were like opposite sides of a coin, that where Enjolras was light, hope and trust that the people were going to rise for their rights, Grantaire was darkness, pessimism and surrendered to the idea that people wasn’t meant to listen. If he thought about the semiotics studies he had taken for his political discourse analysis classes, he would say that Grantaire and him were like linguistic symbols, defined by each other’s negativity, through what each other was not.

It had taken time and lots of intense fights for Enjolras to get to that conclusion. There were times in which Grantaire had promised him he was going to help the cause and ended up playing cards with random people instead of doing his job. There were times in which Enjolras got so upset that he spat venom at Grantaire and his disbelief in everything. There were times in which they both went too far. But then, eventually, everything went back to what Courfeyrac called _'their unconventional version of a normal friendship'_.  However, ironically enough, each fight drove Enjolras closer to Grantaire. Because each time they fought, a layer between them fell, a wall was brought down, and there was nothing Enjolras wanted more, concerning Grantaire, than to understand him.  

Even if not necessarily demonstrative when it came to affection, Enjolras cared about all his friends and he tried to understand them all, in their differences and individual characteristics. He knew that what made Les Amis such an important group was that all the members had different points of view, came from different places, studied different things and all could add another perspective to what the future should be like. Combeferre’s hope in the power of education, Courfeyrac’s belief in the pure kindness of people, Jehan’s wide knowledge and endless interests, Feuilly’s devotion for his country as a family that had opened its arms for him, Bahorel’s hunger for defending the ones who could not fight for themselves, Joly’s joyful comments and concerned curiosity, Bossuet’s never ending optimism and even Marius’s bravery, despite his very infuriating and silly obsession for Napoleon. To that, Enjolras added the girls, who had been much more present to meetings in the last few years, an unexpected turn for the leader but, he was happy to count with Éponine’s fierce strength and will to sacrifice herself for her loved ones, Cosette’s kind heart and Muschietta’s empathy towards others.

Grantaire was another important part of that equation and Enjolras knew what the cynic thought, he knew where his doubts were and, more than anything, he knew what Grantaire _didn’t_ believe in. What he did not know was what Grantaire actually _felt_. And he was sure that his friends were able to relate to him much more because Grantaire opened up to them in ways that he didn’t with Enjolras. And the more Enjolras fell for the artist, the further he felt when he tried to reach out to him.

And then, the art project happened. Grantaire was offered by one of his teachers at college to hold an exhibition in an important gallery. At first, the art student was not sure whether to accept or not, or so he said during meetings; but his friends encouraged him to take the leap and try. They all made their cases and tried, through different opportunities, to convince Grantaire that his talent was more than enough for an exhibition. Enjolras, not sure of what to say, didn’t look at him in the eyes when he muttered:

“You never shut up in here, you should also say something out there. You are even more eloquent with a brush. I’d stop to listen if I were them.”

Grantaire was speechless for a moment, and so were the rest of the Amis. Enjolras, blushing slightly, pretended to be busy with his laptop.

“Well, I am touched.” He said with a grin “I never thought the moment would come in which our fearless leader would praise me…kind of”

Enjolras scoffed and the rest of the group resumed their insistence until Grantaire surrendered and decided to accept the offer. Under one condition, he said: the exhibition’s theme was going to be the Amis themselves.

And that was how it started, during the following months, Grantaire had individual meetings with each member of the group and they posed for him, without being allowed to see the final result until the day of the exhibition. All of them except for Enjolras. And no, he was definitely _not_ pining.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit uncomfortable. Ok, more than a bit and maybe not so much 'uncomfortable' as jealous and disappointed. But, when the invitation came for all of them to go to the opening of the exhibition and Grantaire had never yet asked Enjolras to sit for him as he had done with his friends, he had lost all hope that the art student could be harboring the feelings that his friends insisted on suggesting him that he had.

“Are you sure he’d want me to go?” he asked Combeferre and Courfeyrac for the millionth time while taking off and putting on his tie again.

“Why on earth wouldn’t he want you there?” Courfeyrac said, tired of the argument and of Enjolras’s fruitless attempts at adjusting his tie “Have you seen how he looks at you?”

“He invited us all, don’t let him down, Enjolras” Combeferre grabbed the tie from Enjolras’s hand and tied it himself.

“He didn’t specifically invite me though, did he?” Enjolras stopped moving while Combeferre settled his tie in place, but did not stop talking “He told _you_ to go and you just assumed…”

“You are over thinking this” Combeferre said with a sigh “Maybe he did paint you, but not from a sitting, he just sketched you during a meeting or any other time”

“Is _that_ what this is about?” Courfeyrac interrupted “You think he didn’t paint you because he didn’t ask you to sit for him?” he laughed, patting Enjolras in the back “As if he wasn’t able to draw you from memory with all those times he spent star-…”

“Anyway” Combeferre cut Courfeyrac’s explanation with a warning glare “We are going and you are coming with us. Enough said.”

Enjolras sighed and wordlessly admitted defeat, following his friends through the door. As he walked with them towards the gallery that was hosting Grantaire’s exhibition, Enjolras tried to think of the opportunities that this situation could present, as if that could make him keep out of his mind the anxiousness of showing up uninvited and, probably, unrequited. One of them was definitely seeing Grantaire’s art on display, something that he rarely did. Grantaire was very reserved when it came to showing his finished pieces, even some of his sketches, and only a few of his friends were lucky enough to do so. Enjolras was probably the person who had seen the least works by their resident cynic, and those times often ended with arguments concerning the talent Grantaire had and how much he could do with it if he just _tried_ …but he swore that this time was not going to end that way.

Another comforting thought was that he would be able to see how Grantaire saw everyone in the group. Enjolras was very curious about that, he wanted to know what Grantaire valued about their friends individually and to understand what the artist considered to be important enough to represent their friends with. Because, even if he argued with every single one of their beliefs, he did respect and love their friends, and that could only mean that there was something in them that he valued greatly. That was probably the reason why he had not asked Enjolras himself to sit for him, being their ideas so different, and even if the thought made sense, it did hurt Enjolras even more. Still, there was also the hope of seeing a self-portrait, being Grantaire a part of the group himself, and _that_ would be something Enjolras would love to see, how the artist saw himself and how he felt inside the group, which place he felt he had in it.

With those thoughts in mind, Enjolras pushed aside his feelings and decided that the experience was going to be worthy no matter how painful for him.

 “You look more cheerful” Combeferre said as they reached the gallery and Courfeyrac ran to greet Joly, Bossuet, Muschietta and Éponine, who were waiting by the door.

“It’s not that I’m not interested…” Enjolras started arguing.

“I know, I know, you don’t think he wanted you here” Combeferre smiled “You’re just pining, I understand.”

Enjolras blushed a deep shade of red that matched his tie.

“Maybe you’ll be surprised by what you’ll find in there” Combeferre said, expecting to see a very precise painting of Enjolras inside, given the fact that Grantaire had been drawing him ever since he had first laid eyes on the leader.

 

“I’m sure I will” Enjolras replied, meaning a completely different thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is organized in a 4 chapter fic due to the length this story ended up having (oops), but I'm posting it all at once. Therefore, you'll find the 'real' notes at the end of chapter 4. Just a heads up.


	2. Inspirations

 

 

Once the whole group had gathered, they entered the gallery. Someone, probably Courfeyrac, had texted Grantaire before they did, so he knew that they had arrived; however, he wasn’t at the entrance once the group went into the room, he was talking with a group of smart-dressed people and smiling nonchalantly.

“Wow, I didn’t picture R to be such a pro at this” Courfeyrac said, while Bahorel let out a whistle to encompass the grandeur of the whole elegantly decorated place.

“I can’t wait to see what he did” Jehan seemed really excited, barely containing himself from jumping up and down.

When Grantaire saw his friends, he made some excuses to the group that he was talking to and went to meet them. He was wearing a suit, one that might have been black some time before but it looked slightly worn-out and its color had faded to a dark grey. He had a bright green tie that seemed brand new, and Enjolras had found out while waiting outside that it had been a congratulatory gift from Éponine. His hair was ruffled and messy, as always, but he had neatly shaved this time. It was a lovely sight, Grantaire in a suit. It wasn’t a brand new ensemble, but that only made it more _his_.

“Thank god you’re here” Grantaire said as he approached “I needed people I actually _know_ in here, this is insane” he dropped the gallant smile that he was wearing with the group he was formerly talking to and a slightly panicked stare took over his features “I’m freaking out like hell and I need something stronger to help me calm down than this so-called champagne they’re serving”

“Everything’s going smoothly, then” Bahorel punched Grantaire playfully in the arm, but the artist rubbed it as if the blow had been stronger than it was intended to be.

“Will you show us around?” Jehan said with evident excitement.

“Of course, you’re my inspirations” Grantaire replied with half a smile, one that faltered when he laid eyes on Enjolras.

Fantastic. He wasn’t expecting him, after all. Great.

Grantaire guided the group to one extreme of the gallery and began his touring.

“Well, first off, we have my dear Bahorel” he said, earning a grin from said friend.

The painting was stunning. Bahorel’s figure was standing in front of a dark red background that melted into blacks and yellows, it looked like an explosion, a powerful energy that Bahorel was emerging from. His torso was uncovered and his muscles were as defined as they really were, his anatomy precisely set on canvas. His fists were covered in blood and scars, not too gory but enough to convey that he had been fighting. His features were defined enough to know that he was smiling, not scarily so but with a satisfied grin. He was beaten and scarred but he was happy. He seemed to have been fighting his way to an unknown victory.

“Holy shit” Bahorel himself muttered when he saw his painted reflection.

“You can say that again” Feuilly said, unable to look away from the depiction of his roommate.

“He looks like an avenging warrior,” Courfeyrac smirked “which is basically what his CV should say”

“It’s gorgeous” Jehan tugged Grantaire’s sleeve proudly.

“Thank you, but it’s mostly ‘Rel’s beauty here” Grantaire joked, dismissing the praises.

“Well, yes, that’s obvious” Bahorel added “You’re a genius, R”

“Hardly” Grantaire, uncomfortable with the attention, kept walking “Let’s move on!”

Next in line was Feuilly’s painting, and it was different but still very intense. Feuilly was working, crafting on his desk that was filled with tools, papers, books, some brushes and paint. Feuilly had a longing sight and a peaceful smile, like imagining a bright looking future while working to obtain it. His old wooden desk, detailed with paint splatters and scratches from intense work, made the setting seem like it belonged to the illustration of a vintage book.

“You made him look handsome, I have no idea how you managed that” Bahorel commented, earning a punch in the arm from the object of Grantaire’s artwork.

“The details are impeccable” Feuilly added with reverence, getting closer to the painting and looking at all the elements scattered in the desk, which he recognized as his own.

They continued in that manner through the rest of the paintings. Combeferre’s was subtle and elegant, Enjolras thought that it could be placed above a fireplace in a studio, with his friend sitting among his books and reading in a setting that seemed to radiate warmth through the burgundy and wood-brown shades. You could almost smell the old paper and the sandalwood scent that characterized Combeferre. Éponine stared at it more longingly than the rest and the fact wasn’t overlooked by Enjolras, who smiled knowingly.

Courfeyrac’s was fantastic. The man was in the middle of a crowd but standing out noticeably, bight and shining like a star among the crowd, as if he was inviting you in and offering to show you the best time of your life. His smile was contagious; his dark brown curls flowing with the movement, showing how Courfeyrac was always in motion, always ready to face whatever came his way.

Joly’s was a mixture of authority and glee, energetic yet determined. He was depicted with his lab coat, in one of his rounds at the hospital, surrounded by the frenzy of the emergency room. Said frenzy was suggested by a background that looked as if it was in motion, accelerating around a secure, firm Joly, in the center of that chaos. It was true that Joly was often worried, that his anxiousness and hypochondria sometimes got the best of him, but when he was needed, he became a force of nature, and that was clear in the portrait. 

Muschietta’s was enchanting. Even if she was a very seductive lady and her curvilinear body was often what caught people’s attention at first glance, Grantaire had painted her behind the counter of the Musain and what brought people to see it was Muschietta’s eyes, glowing knowingly and seeming to look right through your soul. If Enjolras didn’t know that Muschietta was a bartender, he might have mistaken her for a fortune-teller of some sort, leaning over a table and seeing your future in your very eyes. It was a bit creepy, to some extent, but both Joly and Bossuet were more than delighted. It was admirable how Grantaire had shown Muschietta’s beauty and made her look seductive and sensual without showing her body almost at all. It was her presence, her stance, her determination and the way she looked at the viewer what drew you in.

Bossuet was represented in a poker table that Enjolras recognized as the one that was at the back of the Café Musain. He was smiling brightly even if he seemed to have lost everything he had bet and a lousy hand of cards was depicted in front of him to prove the point. Both Bossuet and Joly laughed at the metaphore of the 'lousy hand' and Bossuet's smile matched that of the painting, radiant and gleeful, as one would expect of his optimistic nature.

Marius and Cosette were portrayed together because, according to Grantaire, they were too connected emotionally to be painted separately so they made a more impressive work together (Courfeyrac argued that it may have been because they were never away from each other for long periods of time). The portrait was in a large canvas and both Marius and Cosette were sitting on a bench, staring at each other lovingly. Enjolras believed he recognized the bench from some story Marius had insisted on that included a handkerchief somehow, back when he was oh-so-in-love but didn’t even know her name. Maybe that’s why Enjolras didn’t remember much of the story, he had probably tuned out when Marius was speaking. Still, the sun setting from behind them and accenting their profiles, the shades of their hair and the gleam in their eyes would have been suitable for a Valentine’s Day postcard or a romantic movie poster.

“Oh my God, R…” Cosette muttered when she saw it.

“I need to buy this, tell me how much, R” Marius took Cosette’s hand and squeezed it.

“Dude, you’re totally broke” Courfeyrac reminded him “Unless you wanna apologize with your grandpa any time soon…”

“I can’t give you this one because of some exhibition policy bullshit, but I can make one better if you want.” Grantaire assured him “Consider it your wedding gift!”

Marius blushed profusely and tried to shyly catch his girlfriend’s reaction, they had not discussed marriage yet but Marius’s thoughts on it were not a mystery to his friends. Anyhow, Cosette seemed to have missed the comment, still looking at the painting.

As they moved on, they found Éponine’s piece and it was such a huge contrast from the last picture that it made you stop in your tracks. Enjolras ignored if that was Grantaire’s intent but had some suspicions in that direction. Éponine was standing in the rain, the night sky very dark above her and the street lamps faintly glowing behind her. She was looking straight ahead, and even if her demeanor and body language seemed sad, battered and defeated, her eyes were gleaming with something akin to hope. Whatever she was looking at in the distance, whatever the reason for her hope was, remained a mystery to the viewer and, judging for Éponine’s look, maybe for herself too.

“Do you like it, Ép?” Grantaire asked “I know you weren’t even outside when I sketched you, and I made a very free interpretation, but…”

“It’s mind-blowing” she said, with glossy eyes, holding back tears she wasn’t willing to shed in front of everyone “More than perfect.”

Éponine took Grantaire’s hand and gave it a squeeze, unable to keep talking because her voice was about to break. Enjolras noticed Combeferre smiling and sighed. His friend was definitely _not_ the one to talk about pining.

They kept walking and found what was probably the most impressive painting of all: Jehan’s. As they reached it, everyone was left speechless. Enjolras had to remind Courfeyrac to breathe for a bit there. Jehan was lying down on a white blanket, set on the grass, which was less detailed, to make the man stand out more. His long hair was spread around his face with some flowers entwined, all colored in slightly different shades of Jehan’s own hair, making them look as if they were a part of him, as if they belonged with him. He was staring at the infinite, contemplating a million mysteries while, probably, looking at the clouds as he often did. He looked like a nymph or deity, a fairy tale creature come to life.

“Oh, R!” Jehan had tears in his eyes and a smile that could lighten up the entire room “It’s perfect!”

“I’m really glad you like it” Grantaire said, smiling faintly and blushing.

“How could I not? It’s more than I could ever describe in words, and you know I never run out of those” Jehan grabbed Grantaire’s hand and squeezed it firmly.

“Jean Prouvaire…” Courfeyrac mumbled, looking at the painting as if he was transfixed by it “you are out of this world”

Jehan turned crimson red and avoided Courfeyrac’s gaze.

“Thank you…” he said, softly.

“Well, that’s all” Grantaire concluded, moving his feet nervously and avoiding his friends’ startled expressions.

“What do you mean that’s all?” Courfeyrac added, confused “Where’s…”

“ _Courfeyrac_ ” Combeferre interrupted, in a warning tone.

“No, ‘Ferre, Courfeyrac is right” Enjolras said, looking firmly at the artist “Grantaire, where is _your_ painting?”

If the group of friends had been surprised before, now they were completely baffled. They looked from Enjolras to Grantaire and then among each other, trying to put some sense into the situation.

“ _My_ painting? What do you mean ‘ _my_ painting’?” Grantaire asked, sounding more confrontational than he intended.

“This is about Les Amis, isn’t it? About what you respect and value from each member of the group, what you consider important. If so, I was expecting to find your portrait in here, since you are a valuable member of the group.” Enjolras explained, matter-of-factly, maybe in a harsher tone than he had intended.

Grantaire, for once, was left speechless. That was not the reaction he was counting on.

“Well, first, _fearless leader_ ,” he snarled “I never intended to paint myself because that is something _I never do_. I guess you would know that, if you paid more attention to what I actually do, instead of bugging me for what I don’t” he tried not to raise his voice but was failing “In second, as you said, I painted what I value from everyone and I couldn’t, for the life of me, think of something I value about myself that can be paired up with all these other people.”

“That’s not –” Enjolras tried to interrupt, but was cut short by the artist.

“And third, is _that_ what you think is missing here? Have you been paying attention at all? Or don’t you give a flying fuck about what I think of _you_?” he seemed to have realized what he had just said and closed his mouth with a startled expression in his eyes, as if he had already said too much.

“I…I just…” Enjolras stuttered, as Grantaire turned around, about to leave “I just assumed that you didn’t admire anything in me. Since we fight so much and you didn’t invite me… _Christ_ , you didn’t even ask me to sit for you, it’s not like I was expecting to find a painting of myself in here in the first place”

Grantaire froze on his spot. He turned around slowly, a soft expression in his eyes.

“You thought…all this time you thought I didn’t ask you because I… _didn’t like you_?” he said in a small voice, hesitant.

“Well…yes…it’s not like I didn’t want you to paint me, it’s just…I understand, you know…you don’t agree with what I do, with who I am, and it’s fine…I mean…not _fine_ but…” Enjolras cursed himself, usually so fluent and graceful with words, failing monumentally when he most needed not to.

“I did paint you” Grantaire said, stepping slowly towards Enjolras and looking at him with uncertainty.

“What?” Enjolras looked up, thinking he might have misheard.

“I did paint you, but I didn’t hang the picture. It’s stored in the back…I didn’t want anyone to see it” now it was Grantaire who lowered his sight and avoided Enjolras.

“Why wouldn’t you want people to see it? Is it…negative?” the blonde asked, hesitantly.

“Negative?” Grantaire seemed puzzled.

“Did you paint what you dislike about me?” Enjolras insisted.

And, at that, Grantaire laughed.

“I don’t think I could paint that, Enjolras. It would be a blank canvas”

“Are you mocking me?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow.

Grantaire sighed, tired and defeated.

“Alright, you win, come with me” he said, and grabbed Enjolras by the hand.

The rest of the group just stared at them, having witnessed with confusion the confrontation that had just taken place.

“I think we should give them some space” Combeferre said “Let’s go to the Musain and wait for them there”

“But, _‘Ferre_ …” Courfeyrac moaned.

“To the Musain, Courfeyrac” Combeferre took his friend by the arm and dragged him away from the gallery, followed by the rest of the group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pretty man that served me as a model for my attempt to illustrate R's picture of Jehan is Bartek Borowiec.


	3. Muse

 

Enjolras followed Grantaire to the storage room and saw him exchange words of apology to people approaching him, surely to talk about his work or discuss something important. It seemed that, for Grantaire, nothing was more important than showing Enjolras his painting and, with that thought in mind, the leader’s heart started beating faster and he reflexively grabbed Grantaire’s hand tighter. If the artist noticed it, he didn’t show it.

Finally, they reached a dark corner of the storage room, where a canvas was propped against a wall, covered with a white sheet. Grantaire took a deep breath, as if he was about to rip a band-aid off, and uncovered the canvas. Enjolras couldn’t believe his eyes.

This painting was different, much different from the rest. Instead of having Enjolras doing something that identified him, as was the case of his friends’ paintings (like leading a rally, speaking in a meeting or marching in a protest), it was a more conceptual take on Enjolras’s personality, like a deconstruction of his being. His head and shoulders were depicted twice, one in bright colors and the other one, upside down, in gray scale. The colored one was soft, delicate, his eyes looking at the distance as if he could see the future that he wanted to build right in front of his eyes, his mouth gentle, determined. The other one, turned around like a poker card design, depicted his face as strong, fierce, angular, quite scary and terrible. He seemed angry, furious even and, more than anything: _dangerous_. He was angry with the obstacles that made the other part of Enjolras unable to reach his dream, he was determined to fight to get it and to fight for the people, to make all the sacrifices that had to be made. Somehow, Grantaire was able to incorporate both things and still make it easy to understand that both men were indeed the same. Not only that but, despite the differences, Grantaire made it possible to believe that a single man could encompass all those feelings, all those thoughts, and that you could understand them all.

“I’m not sure how to take your silence…” Grantaire mumbled.

Enjolras tried to speak, he really did, but he couldn’t form a single word. He always knew what to say, but now, for the second time that day, his words were failing him.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire asked, scared, hesitant.

Enjolras turned around and looked at Grantaire, his eyes glossy, his lips shaking. He was not someone who cried easily, even less when it came to art. It was difficult for him to connect with it sometimes, it was not ‘his thing’, as Courfeyrac would say. But it wasn’t the painting in itself what produced this reaction in him; it was what lied behind it.

“You _understand_ ” he finally said, in a ghost of a voice.

Grantaire, still visibly panicking, was now the one lacking words. He had never seen Enjolras so open, so vulnerable in front of him, and it scared him greatly, but he couldn’t look away.

“I came here today…” Enjolras’s voice cracked and he took a deep breath to steady himself, he was going to do this and he was going to do this right “I came here today to try to understand you. I have harbored feelings for you for a long time now, but I always felt that we were worlds away, that I couldn’t put a sense to what really lied inside of you because you never gave me the chance to do it. I came here to see in your art, in your depictions of our friends and of yourself, what you valued, what you believed in.” he faltered, but tried not to lose his ground “But now, looking at this painting, I see that you _understand me_. You have known me and understood me all along; even if I gave you the same, or maybe even fewer opportunities than those you gave me. You see me and get me like nobody ever has, not even myself; and not only that, you have _set it on canvas_ ” he turn to look at the painting again “All this time I thought you didn’t get me, you didn’t _listen_ , but…you probably listened better than anyone else”.

Grantaire was frozen on his spot. There were a lot of things in that statement that impressed him but one more than any other caught his attention.

“You…you have _feelings_ for me?” he managed to mutter.

“Well, yes…that’s not exactly how I imagined telling you but, I do” it was Enjolras’s turn to look away.

“I can’t say I believe you”

“Why wouldn’t you?” the leader approached him slowly, not wanting to overwhelm the artist.

“Because I have been in love with you ever since I met you and this doesn't seem _real_ ” he laughed nervously “But if that wasn’t obvious enough already, it is now that you’ve seen the painting”

“What do you mean?” Enjolras came closer, even if Grantaire was not looking at him directly.

“God, _Enjolras_ ” the artist sighed, exasperated at the leader’s aparent intention to make him spell out his feelings for him “I didn’t hang the painting because I feared that my feelings would become too obvious if I did. I am completely and utterly unable to paint, sketch or draw you without pouring my heart into it, without my faith and love and belief in you getting smeared all over it, and this is _not_ how I wanted to go about this…” he trailed off, still avoiding Enjolras’s stare.

“I can see it now…see _you_ better now, too” the blonde was close enough that he could touch Grantaire, tilt his head up and make him look, but he wanted that decision to be Grantaire’s “I don’t just see myself there, you know, I also see how you see me…” he added hesitantly, scared, hopeful.

“You said that you came here to know what I believed in.” Grantaire looked up and his eyes stared at Enjolras’s blue ones “It’s you who I believe in, Enjolras. Not what you say, not what you fight for, _you_.”

They stared at each other openly and Enjolras understood that he did not need Grantaire to make a self-portrait for him to know what he thought about himself. If he did, he would most certainly enhance his mistakes, his problems, his issues and, through the magnifying glass that was his insecurity, make himself look like something he really was not. But, through his depiction of Enjolras, with his understanding of Enjolras as a person and his obvious admiration, Grantaire also proved what he believed in, what he looked up to and, if Enjolras understood this correctly, what he loved.

“When I said our friends were my inspirations and I didn’t include you there, I wasn’t lying” Grantaire said, as Enjolras looked at him with questioning eyes “You’re not my inspiration, Enjolras, you’re my _muse_ ”.

Enjolras closed the space between them and his lips found Grantaire’s as if they had already learned the way. His hands traveled to the artist’s face and caressed it tenderly. He drew back shortly after, unsure about Grantaire’s lack of response.

“Um…was that ok?” Enjolras asked, blushing.

“ _Ok_?” Grantaire finally reached out and laced his fingers through Enjolras’ curls “It was surreal” he leaned in this time and the kiss was stronger, more certain and unleashed the passion that the artist had been hiding from the leader through all those years.

“Maybe we should go…” Enjolras mumbled as Grantaire kissed his neck reverently “You have people to talk to outside…important…people…” he let out a soft moan as Grantaire bit him gently.

“Yeah…I probably should…” the artist said and Enjolras felt his lips forming the words on his neck “How about this,” Grantaire finally looked up to a disappointed and pouty Enjolras and _God_ if that wasn’t the cutest thing he had ever seen “I’ll meet you at your place tomorrow morning and take you the painting”.

Enjolras’s eyes opened widely.

“Your painting?” he said, unbelieving “ _That_ painting?” he pointed at the masterpiece behind him.

“Yes, of course. Since I didn’t hang it, it’s not attached to any gallery policy bullshit so I get to keep it…”

“But you worked so hard on that!” Enjolras looked from the painting to Grantaire and back “I should pay you or…”

“You give me one euro for that painting and I will set it on fire”

“I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m sorry” Enjolras instantly panicked and Grantaire laughed.

“Just take it,” he said “I’ll be there around 10 with it, you just have some coffee for me and we’ll be set”

“I didn’t know you were capable of waking up before noon” Enjolras teased as Grantaire opened the storage door.

 

“The things I do for love...” he said smirking and re-entering the gallery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely man who served as a model for Enjolras in my poor rendition of R's painting is Mathias Lauridsen. I realize that he isn't the most conventional or even appropriate model for E but he is pretty versatile and he had these two shots that were perfect for this.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following epilogue is just a funny addition because I owed myself a couple of headcanons, it may break the emotional path of the last chapters, but bear with me.

 

There were plenty of things in this new scenario that were foreign to Grantaire and made it seem like he was living in a very vivid drink-induced hallucination: from Enjolras confessing his feelings for him to having a mildly successful exhibition the previous night, to surprisingly being awake and sober at Enjolras’s and Combeferre’s apartment door one Saturday morning around 10 am, carrying a big canvas. Even if all those elements were strange and quite hard to believe, the weirdest thing he could have witnessed was standing in front of his eyes.

Combeferre had opened the door to him and invited him in as he exited to start his shift at the hospital and Grantaire had stepped in only to find the object of his affections with early morning messy hair, a white undershirt under a zip-up hoodie that must have been red at some point but constant wear had turned an interesting salmon-like color and…

“Oh my God, are those _Care Bears_ shorts?” he said, his mouth agape.

“Well, technically, it’s Brave Heart Lion…” Enjolras said, turning a deep shade of red.

Grantaire was unable to stop laughing. He was positive that he had tears in his eyes, could hardly catch his breath and was probably mortifying Enjolras at that point, but _really_ …

“Stop laughing at me! It was a gift!” Enjolras said, as Grantaire sat down at the kitchen counter to catch his breath “Courfeyrac gave it to me as a prank-gift for my last birthday and one day during finals week I had no clean clothes to sleep with and found these things and they’re just _so_ comfortable…STOP LAUGHING!”

Grantaire required another couple of minutes to calm down, after which he stared at Enjolras in amazement. The 80s design of the cuddly orange lion with a red heart on his belly was portrayed in different poses all around the cotton fabric of Enjolras’s shorts.  

“I mean, I have to give it to Courf here, that’s a pretty spot-on present in many ways, you know, the leader of a bunch of creatures that represent very different values, who isn’t afraid to fight for things he believes in and shouts “ _Charge!_ ” when he goes to combat…it is kind of on key. Still, I would have never guessed I’d see you wearing merchandise of a multimedia franchise that not only saturates the market with products but also has more sugar coating on it than any other 80s franchise, which is to say a lot because franchises were everywhere back then…” this was even more surprising to Grantaire than that time when the Amis had heard Enjolras softly singing _Revolting Children_ as he packed his things in the café before leaving.

“It’s just that I…wait, how do you know so much about Care Bears?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow.

“I know a lot about pop culture, Enjolras, it’s my superpower” in that moment, Grantaire’s cellphone rang “Talking about superpowers, someone clearly can sense when someone else is talking about him” he said, checking the caller ID before answering “Good morning Monsieur de C”.

Enjolras smiled fondly and moved to set the coffee machine on.

 _«You sound incredibly sober and cheerful for a Saturday morning»_ Courfeyrac said on the other end of the phone.

“That’s because I have witnessed heaven” Grantaire responded, smirking at Enjolras, who moved to the living room area glaring at him.

_«I know for a fact that you didn’t bang Enjolras last night because I asked ‘Ferre to keep me posted if he heard something weird on his flat»_

“That’s really creepy and, fyi, I didn’t, but I’m with him right now and he’s wearing the most elegant Brave Heart Lion shorts I have ever seen…not that I have seen many, though”

_«IS HE WEARING THEM?! HE WEARS THEM, I KNEW HE WORE THEM OH MY GOD, SEND ME A PIC SO I CAN FRAME IT, AM I A GENIOUS OR WHAT?»_

“Jesus, Courf, calm down, you’re deafening me” Grantaire winced.

_«Oh but, R, be careful»_

“What do you mean?”

_«Those were limited edition so I can’t get a new pair, try not to rip them off»_

“Courfeyrac, I’m _not_ getting turned on by Care Bears shorts”

On the next room and just in Grantaire’s view, Enjolras bended over to pick up the coffee mug that Combeferre had left on the tea table. Oh. _Oh_.

“Oh, yeah, I know what you mean now. And I’ve gotta go.”

_«CAREFUL!»_

“Bye, Courfeyrac”

_«I MEAN IT GRAN-»_

And with that, Grantaire left his phone, the coffee and his canvas behind, all but forgotten, grabbed a startled Enjolras by the waist and kissed him senseless on the way to the couch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. No Care Bear shorts were harmed in the making of this fic
> 
> 2\. Sorry for the lack of action, I wanted this to be a more emotional fic but I have no idea whether I’ve achieved that.
> 
> 3\. This is the first fic I publish with this account (not my first fic at all, I just published elsewhere) and my first creation for this particular fandom, I’m incredibly insecure about my skills, my characterization and my level of English (it’s not my first language, as you probably can tell) and I admire so many authors in this fandom that I struggled with the idea of publishing this for a long time. I decided that I had nothing to lose, so I took a shot, but constructive criticism is absolutely welcome. This book/musical/etc. is really amazing and the last thing I want to do is disrespect it with a lousy fic. 
> 
> 4\. I really like how this platform allows you to add pictures to the text and I love mixing media to tell stories (picture books are my passion) so I tried to illustrate 2 of Grantaire’s paintings as well as I could. The model for E in this text is also Mathias Lauridsen because of continuity purposes and I apologize for having him wear Care Bears shorts. 
> 
> 5\. This is unbeta’ed. You can probably tell that too.
> 
> 6\. Thank you for reading, you’re wonderful and I love you.


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